


Call Me When You Need Me

by sister_dear



Series: Screaming Out a Love Song [6]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, F/M, Face-Sitting, Femdom, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Rope Bondage, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 18:33:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8068261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sister_dear/pseuds/sister_dear
Summary: He doesn't like that the Boss didn’t take either of them with her. He gets why. He just doesn’t like being left behind. His hands itch for something to do. He starts to reach for the sewing, remembers he was tired of it. “This is boring.““I’m gonna tie you to the bed if you don’t stop bothering me.“He’s silent a moment. “Ok.”





	

  
The Boss is out. Going west with Cricket towards Vault 81. Mac saw her slipping the strap-on harness into her travel bag, which means the two of them will be doing their best to make sure Cricket’s guards get quite the earful and no sleep at all.  
  
With her gone, Hangman’s Alley is empty except for himself and Cait. Ada has barely been gone a day and MacCready has already had his fill of weeding the garden and sewing up the torn seams on their clothes. His eyes wander to Cait, sitting next to him on the floor of their shared living space. She’s sorting empty bullet casings. She’s got to be as bored as he is. He leans into her shoulder, sticks his nose in the crook of her neck and breathes deep.  
  
“Oi, cut it out!” She laughs as she says it. He likes her laugh, a full bodied thing that’s unabashedly loud. She’s been more free with it lately. He scratches his stubbly face against the sensitive skin under her jaw, grinning and then yelping when it earns him a solid pinch in the side.  
  
They resettle. He leans his head on her shoulder, watching her work. Her hands are strong, sure. The muscle under his cheek flexes every time she reaches for a new handful.  
  
He doesn't like that the Boss didn’t take either of them with her. He gets why. He just doesn’t like being left behind. His hands itch for something to do. He starts to reach for the sewing, remembers he was tired of it. “This is boring.“  
  
“I’m gonna tie you to the bed if you don’t stop bothering me.“  
  
He’s silent a moment.  
  
“Ok.”  
  
She stops. He’s done ropes with Ada, less often with Cait. Mostly because it’s almost never just him and Cait; when the Boss is here, she likes to be in charge. He can feel Cait’s head twisting to look at him, but he’s still watching her hands.  
  
“You sure?”  
  
“Yeah.“  
  
She nudges him upright with her elbow. “Get undressed. I’ll be right back.“  
  
She springs to her feet and heads for the storage room upstairs. He does as he’s told. She comes back just as he’s stripping off underwear and pants in one go. She’s got coils of rope in one hand and a nondescript drawstring bag in the other.  
  
“Sit up on the bed,” she directs, setting her collection of items down at the foot of the mattress. The old metal frame creaks as he drops onto it. “Cross your legs.”  
  
He watches as she goes over to the casings she was sorting. “Come on, Cait, I don’t have all day.” She flips him off, gathers up a handful of brass. They rattle noisily as she drops them into an empty tin can. She sets it on the bed next to his knee.  
  
“Knock that over, you want this to stop. Got it?”  
  
“Yeah. Yeah I got it, come on.” He wants to open the bag, see what she brought down. He holds onto his ankles instead. Slips into that quiet, watchful state of waiting, waiting, waiting for the perfect shot as she unwinds the rope. He stays quiet as she ties him. Moves his limbs when she tells him to. A harness around his chest. (”Not too tight?”) Loops around his thighs and calves so he can’t unbend his legs. (”Lean back a bit.”) A small coil to hold his crossed ankles together. (”Cross your arms and hold your elbows. Comfortable?”) She binds his forearms together, runs the rope around his back so he can’t pull his arms away from his body. Finally, a line from the chest harness to the loops around his legs, so he can’t lean back without pulling his legs along with him. Halfway through his eyes are glazed over. By the time she’s done his dick is starting to swell.  
  
He tugs at the ropes, testing. Enough room for him to squirm, but they hold him tight. Secure. He pulls again. He’s almost forgotten Cait’s there until she strokes her hand through his hair. She’s far more gentle about it that she normally would be.  
  
“Still with me?”  
  
He nods.  
  
“Anything pinching? Too tight?” She runs her fingers under the ropes, feeling the knots.  
  
He shakes his head. “M’good,” he croaks.  
  
“You want a gag?” She pulls one out of the bag, holds it where he can see. It’s short and squat, shaped like the head of a penis. There’s a hole through the butt end for a strip of fabric to tie the thing in place, looks like a piece of a pre-war sheet. He nods. Opens his mouth to let it slide inside, curls his tongue around it as she secures the knot. It’s big enough he couldn’t talk even if the ropes hadn’t rendered him mute, but not so long it sets off his gag reflex.  
  
“I’m gonna tip you over,” she warns him. Hands under his knees, she lifts, lifts. He teeters, lets the rope between his legs and chest go tight to catch his weight, curls his back so the mattress comes up to meet him as Cait guides him gently down onto his back. His crossed legs hang in the air, supported by the ropes between them. The line between his legs and chest goes slack if he curls his legs towards his chest, but doesn’t let him lower them to the mattress. His ass and dick are exposed to the room. He’s too comfortable to care. It’s just the two of them here.  
  
“Still all right?” She checks again. He nods. She moves the can of brass up so it’s in line with his knee again. “Can you still reach that, if you roll over?” He hums an affirmative, rolls to the side a little to demonstrate.  
  
“One last thing.” She shows him a dildo. It’s fairly realistically shaped, pitch black, with fake balls at the flared base. He nods again.  
  
She lubes up her fingers, rubs her thumb against his hole until he squirms. She kisses his knee. Curls her thumb. He relaxes to let her in. Her knuckles are thick and gnarled, broken and healed repeatedly. She works him open slow. Not trying to get him excited, just loose. The dildo, when it comes, goes in with equal care. Thick, even pressure. Once the head slides all the way inside the rest glides in easy. Once it’s seated she lets go, sits back. He can feel it settling when it comes free of her hand, dragging down at his entrance and pressing up inside.  
  
Her hands pass slowly along his legs, one last check. The mattress moves as she stands. The dildo shifts, slides most of the way out before he can clamp down and catch it. She presses it back in and wedges the base against the mattress, the ‘balls’ brushing his ass. “Need anything?” He blinks at her, preoccupied with curling his tongue around the plug in his mouth, flexing his arms against their bonds. “MacCready. Need anything?” He shakes his head. “Then I’ll be over there.”  
  
She goes back to sorting through casings. For a while he’s content to just float. Shifting his legs, his arms, his back. Feeling the way the rope slides. Where it gives and where it doesn’t. The dick in his ass, not doing anything, just filling him up. Little touches, all over. He can single them out one by one or flex every muscle, try to feel them all at once. He looses track of time. Vaguely notices when Cait comes over to check on him, but she never touches him, never talks to him, so he lets himself sink back into the slowly building stimulation of the ropes.  
  
When Cait next speaks to him he’s half hard even though he hasn’t been touched at all. She asks how he’s doing. He makes a mildly irritable noise, groggy and turned on. “I’m going to touch you,” she warns. She runs her hands over his arms and legs, over the ropes. She tests the knots, squeezes his hands and feet, checking the circulation. Her touches wake him up a little. Make him want more. She smiles, all mischief, when he tries to fuck himself on the dildo and only manages to make it slip out a little. She resettles it.  
  
When she takes his balls in her hand he can feel every callous on her skin. “Enjoying yourself?” She can see that he is. She runs a light finger up his penis, rolls his balls along her fingers. Then she leaves. He bites down on the gag, frustrated. A little less content to float now, he lifts his head so he can watch her. She cleans up the casings, pulls her shotgun from its spot on the wall instead and begins to take it apart for cleaning. The sun is at just the right angle to come in through the windows, highlight her shoulders, her jaw. She glances up at one point, catches him looking. Makes a big show of leering at him, trailing her gaze over the eyeful of dick and ass he’s presenting her with.  
  
His neck grows tired. He lets his head drop back down to the bed. The feel of Cait’s hands on him lingers. He imagines her running her fingers over him again. If he moves his hips just so, he can get little shifts in pressure out of the dildo. His dick is still maddeningly half-hard, but there’s nothing to thrust against.  
  
She checks on him again, sooner than he expects, smelling of gun cleaner. She runs her hands down his legs, squeezing his ankles. She looks at his dick and smirks. He makes an impatient noise at her.  
  
“Want something?” she coos, and laughs when he snarls. She makes a big show of checking the knots and his limbs again, wearing a smug little smile the whole time. Her hand ‘accidentally’ lands between his legs as she’s pulling the dildo halfway out to drip more lube over it. He bucks up into her desperately. His eyes slip shut in relief when she stops teasing, one hand wrapping around him, the other sliding the dildo in and out a few times to spread the fresh lube before she re-seats it fully. She presses up on his ankles, pushing his legs towards his head so the line between his chest and thighs goes slack, and works his dick in earnest. One of her knees presses up against the base of the dildo, bumping it with every shift of his hips, little in and out motions as he rocks against her. Her callouses slide and scrape with just enough pressure. He’s fully hard in no time at all. Finally having any motion in his ass, however slight, is lighting up every nerve he has down there. He grinds against her, can feel himself building with embarrassing speed towards the point of no return.  
  
Then she stops. A noise bursts out of him. Furious, frustrated. “Patience, sweet-cheeks,” she chides, delivering a swift pinch to the soft skin of his inner thigh. He jumps, swears around the gag, letting his tone speak for him. “Now that ain’t nice.” She crosses one arm over his knees and rests her chin on it, curling him up with her weight, smiling down at him. Her eyes crinkle up at the corners.  
  
He wants to quip. “Glad to see you’re having fun,” or something, but of course it comes out as nothing but garbled nonsense.  
  
“Still alright?” she asks, face serious. He rolls his tongue against the gag, considering. He nods.  
  
“Good.” She leans back slowly, letting him relax back into the ropes. “I’ll be back.”  
  
He squirms in earnest, now. The ropes hold him still, delicious bands around every limb. He’s far too worked up to relax, but with no stimulation his erection starts to flag. His jaw aches, the gag holding his teeth apart. He pushes on it with his tongue, feels the change in pressure on the tie at the corners of his lips. His ass is just starting to tip towards uncomfortable rather than pleasantly full. He’s also hyper aware of Cait, of the noises she’s making as she attends to her shotgun. Now she’ll be putting grease on the wear points in the receiver. Now oil in the moving parts. He knows the exact moment she starts to reassemble. It doesn’t usually take this long. She’s drawing it out on purpose.  
  
He groans around the gag when she finally comes over a final time. She squeezes his dick. Three passes and he’s hard again. He clamps down on the dildo. Fuck uncomfortable, it feels great. Two more strokes and she stops. He wants to scream. She grins. Leans over his legs and taps him on the nose.  
  
“Make me come and I’ll get you off.”  
  
He doesn’t even have to think, just nods.  
  
She unties the gag. He makes a little sound of relief as it slides free, working his jaw, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth.  
  
“All right?”  
  
“Yeah.” His voice is gravely. He clears his throat.  
  
“Need water?”  
  
“No, just. C’mere already.”  
  
She strips off her boots, shirt, pants. Makes sure he’s looking before she slides off her underwear.  
  
The mattress dips when she climbs on top of him, his upper body shifting back under her weight. She strokes his hair as she gets herself into place. She drops forward so she can lean on her hands, holds herself just above him. He tilts his chin back, scrapes his stubble against the inside of her thigh and feels her shiver. He noses her open, tongue darting out for a taste. She’s wet. She’s clearly been wet for a while.  
  
It’s a little harder than usual, not having his fingers to help. His hands and forearms flex, pulling at the ropes. His back arches off the mattress, shoulders shifting, mindlessly fighting for a better angle. And his jaw was already tired from the gag. He still knows her well enough by now to know how she likes it. He uses his nose, his tongue. Draws her folds into his mouth, closes his lips around her clit and sucks. She manages to hold herself mostly still until she comes, and then she’s grinding down against his mouth, his nose buried in her curls.  
  
She lifts herself away from him with a sudden lurch. Hovers there for a moment, still with a hand in his hair. Slick is cooling on his lips and chin. He tilts his head back but can’t see her face, just the strong lines of her body, covered in muscle and scars. She has freckles literally everywhere. She sighs, satisfied, content. Sits up and back, wet crotch landing on his chest. All his breath goes out in a startled cough. She’s heavy.  
  
“Cait,” he says. Irritated, pleading. “Cait, come on.“  
  
“I could leave you here a little longer if you like.“  
  
“Cait!”  
  
She laughs, delighted. Lifts herself off of him, careful not to knock him in the head as she goes. Then it’s not her hand but her mouth on him. “Fu-freaking finally,” he groans, doesn’t even care when it earns him a pinch. She wraps one hand around the base of his dick, works the dildo with the other. In and out, in time with the bobbing of her mouth. Her tongue curls around him. She pushes the dildo in and grinds, pressing the fake balls up against his ass. His hips want to buck but he can’t. He’s too tired, been on his back with his legs in the air too long. His fingers flex and clench on nothing, legs trembling against the pull of the rope. She lifts up until it’s just his head in her mouth and sucks hard. Drops her head back down, following her hand, works the dildo in and out and that’s it, that’s all it takes. She pulls off of him just as he looses it, works him with her hand as he shoots white spurts all over his legs and stomach and the ropes.  
  
He relaxes his head and shoulders into the mattress with a groan. “Good?” Cait asks.  
  
“Yeah. Hel-heck yeah. Just. Get me out of his stuff.” With his orgasm past, everything is starting to protest the prolonged stay in one position.  
  
“All right, hold on.” He shivers as Cait slowly works the dildo back out of him, forcing himself to relax and let the head pop free. She sets it aside, undoes the line between his chest and legs next, helps him lower his legs into her lap. He moans with each new rope that comes undone, stretching first one leg and then the other over her thighs. She leans forward, pulls him up to sit between her legs so she can get at the knots holding his arms in place. He lets his arms lay where she puts them, his hands resting on her thighs as she undoes the last of the chest harness and tosses the rope aside. His head tilts forward and then they’re back where they were at the start of all this, his nose in her neck as she massages slowly across his shoulders and down to each of his hands, then on to what she can reach of his back and legs. He stays put even when she’s finished, blinking sleepily into her hair.  
  
“Back with me, love?”  
  
“Five more minutes,” he grumbles.  
  
She snorts, flicks his ear, and gives him his five more minutes. 


End file.
